


Remembering Sirius Black

by momstiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, Amortentia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Kissing, Letters, M/M, Making Out, Memories, Post-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, R/S 24 Hour Challenge, Recovered Memories, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 06:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16990203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momstiel/pseuds/momstiel
Summary: Dealing with dementors for twelve years did not leave Sirius Black unscathed. His memory is spotty, leaving him unable to remember a good chunk of his life before Azkaban. Fortunately for Sirius, it turns out that Remus Lupin and his weird little jar might just be his own personal timeturner.





	Remembering Sirius Black

**Author's Note:**

> For the R/S 24 Hour Challenge 
> 
> I used "Amnesia" and then mentioned "party games" and "amortentia" in it as well.

Sometimes Sirius swears he can taste those old happy years in Remus’s kiss. Every time the werewolf’s tongue grazes across his, he swears he can practically feel his youth returning to him. It is almost as if Remus Lupin’s love is a timeturner, bringing him back to when they were just dumb kids, caught up in pranking, and oblivious to the war rising around them.

 

Sometimes Sirius swears that Remus Lupin’s lips serve no purpose other than reminding him he is a shell of the person he used to be. On those days, an acid grows and burns in his stomach every time he approaches. The crisscross of scars that cover Remus’s body taunt him, as if each cut shouts, ‘ _Look what you did to me! You left me!_ ’. When those memories slowly crawl back into his body, like filthy parasites that cling, he shuts his former lover out. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days, and even once for a week.

 

Sirius Black isn’t blind, or stupid for that matter, he knows by the pained look that clouds those amber eyes that he hurts Remus. Every time he flinches away, that expression grows and makes itself at home inside of the werewolf. _Maybe he’d be happier if I wasn’t here._

 

During his time at Azkaban, Sirius frequently had run-ins with dementors. Every time those creatures - draped in an awful black cloak, skin rotting off the bone - approached, he was forced to relive all of his worst moments. This was a weekly occurrence for twelve years, and it did not leave Sirius unscathed. All of his happiest memories were locked away in a vault, just out of reach due to the extended disuse.

 

Even now, as Remus entered his room, jar in hand, Sirius only could feel sickly. It was almost as if the sight of this thirty-four year old man, with graying hair and ragged features was the personification of his past. It was a cruel reminder that they were so much older now, and everything that used to be gold was all rusted now. “I hope you don’t mind me barging in,”

 

“I don’t,” Sirius lied, struggling to look at the other’s face. Once upon a time those dull, brown eyes were full of fire. Now, just like so much in his life, the spark was stomped out by the war.

 

The bed folded inward on itself under the added weight as Remus sat down next to him. A cold surface brushed against his hands, and it took Sirius a minute to realize it was the jar the other had brought in. Slate grey eyes scanned over the glass, noticing that it was filled to the brim with pieces of parchment. Finally allowing Remus to transfer it over to him, Sirius held the jar with confusion. “Remus… what is this?”

 

“A gift,” He explained vaguely. “Inside, it contains little notes. Once a day - I don’t want to overwhelm your senses -  I want you to pick one up and read it.”

 

“I hardly see the point of this,” Sirius chided hastily, going to hand the jar back to Remus, but he refused it. “C’mon,”

 

Remus’s chapped lips spread into a thin line. “Before you deny it, please just reach in and grab one. Please, for me.” Even though the memories were distant, Sirius knew that there was a time he would have done anything for the man beside him.

 

Hesitantly, Sirius popped off the lid and reached into the confinement, pulling out when he grabbed a singular piece. For a second, he lifted his face, meeting Remus’s with a pinch of skepticism. Then, followed by a wary sigh, he looked down to see what was written on it.

 

The first thing he registered was scratchy handwriting, a telltale sign that it belonged to Remus.

 

_Winter- Fourth Year: In anticipation for Christmas, we hexed the floor in the Great Hall so that all the Slytherins would slip as if it was ice beneath their feet. Snape had tripped and slid right into Crouch, causing a quite hilarious sight. We laughed for what felt like hours, and you were so drunk on the feeling you collapsed into my side in a fit of giggles._

 

Sirius had to reread the note three times before even the faintest remembrance occurred. It had been so long since he thought about the shenanigans they used to pull that the memories didn’t even feel like his own. Reading the note almost felt as if he was in a room with a flickering candle. He was surrounded in darkness, but that candle- although small and lousy - was shining light on some of the room’s forgotten contents.

 

Although the memory was a stale, an almost foreign taste on his tongue, it was there. No matter how hard Sirius tried, he couldn’t remember just exactly how Remus used to look. He was faceless, but at the same time, Sirius found comfort in it.

 

He must have been staring at the note longer than he intended because Remus cleared his throat to remind Sirius of his presence. “I’m sorry for doubting you…”

 

“Do you remember it…?”

 

Sirius contemplated lying, reassuring Remus that _of course_ he remembered it. If he said that, it would have spared him from having to watch the pain expression grow on his friend’s face. Yet, when he opened his mouth, different words spilled out. “No… I… I mean, a little bit. Can’t really grasp it - it’s like it’s just out of my reach. Something about it _feels_ like coming home… but… I just… can’t visualize it.”

 

There it was. Hope, which had put a beautiful light in Remus’s eye, was quickly fading. No matter how much the werewolf tried to hide it behind an impassive expression, Sirius could still see right through him.

 

Silence washed over the room, and Sirius couldn’t bare to bring his eyes up from the jar in his hands. He felt Remus squeeze his thigh in a reassuring manner before heading towards the door.

 

He was alone again.

 

* * *

 

It was the next morning, and Sirius was once again in his room. Remus had went off on some Order mission, leaving him alone in this awful place. If it wasn’t for Harry, Sirius would have jumped out of the first window he had seen upon arriving back in Grimmauld Place.

 

Buckbeak made a weird huffing noise from the end of his room that caught his attention. The poor creature probably hated this house as much as he did. After all, who would enjoy being stuck in Grimmauld Place - breeding ground of dark magic and everything nasty.

 

There was nothing to do, and boredom was slowly creeping up inside him. He instinctively turned into Padfoot, deciding he just couldn’t cope with all the emotions attached to being a human. Just as he went to leap off the bed, his paw got snagged on one of the blankets, knocking it roughly to the ground. There was a loud THUMP as something hit the grimy wooden floorboards. Padfoot’s ears shot up, and he trotted over to the other side of the bed, noticing a jar lying on its side.

 

In a blur, he changed back into his human form to pick up Remus’s gift. He must have fallen asleep with it on the bed. Sirius was tempted to just kick it under the bed so he’d never have to deal with looking at the jar ever again. It withheld memories of the man he used to be… memories of the man he’d never be again.

 

Yet, he knew Remus wanted him to look it once a day. So, with a heavy heart, he grabbed the first piece he could get his hands on.

 

_July 1978 : We just graduated Hogwarts and moved into a small flat in London. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for both of us. I remember on our first day living within it, Marlene had bought us a coffee maker. It didn’t take us long to realize that was the best housewarming gift we could have gotten._

 

Like a leak in a boat, a small spurt of a memory broke free. Every single day, it took a cup of coffee for Remus to wake up. He never was much of a morning person, and he used to tease his boyfriend that he wasn’t human until he had daily hit. This memory felt far closer than the previous one that occurred at Hogwarts. This was his life right before it was ripped out beneath his feet.

 

But, no matter how hard he tried, Sirius couldn’t visualize the layout of the flat, or Marlene’s face in life. During his time at Azkaban, the dementors had him relive the moment he found all the McKinnons murdered in their house over and over again. Whenever he thought of Marlene, he was forced to imagine that pale corpse. A shudder went up his spine at the memory, and in an impulse motion he tore up the piece of parchment.

 

It was like a breath of fresh air at first, but naturally his corrupt mind had turned it dark. Even though he had escaped Azkaban, it was as if in many ways he was still being held captive by it.

 

Sirius’s hands were shaking as he decided to reach into the jar again. Maybe it was a bad idea, but the jolt he had felt when he remembered Remus’s coffee addiction was addictive in its own way.

 

_March - Seventh Year: On my birthday night, we shared a bottle of firewhiskey. Then, we played spin the bottle with it when it was emptied. Everyone had gathered in the common room to play. When your turn came around, it spun and landed on me. Our kiss had lasted for so long, we were ushered to go up and get a room. So we did._

 

Even though Sirius couldn’t fully recall that exact moment in his life, it still brought a small, reminiscent smile onto his lips. It was almost as if these notes were a guide, telling him how he used to act. Back then he was reckless, free, bold, and above all - happy. It was a bittersweet feeling, but it was helping him piece together who he was.

 

These notes were almost like a drug, and he couldn’t wait to get his next fix. Maybe that was why he already had another piece ready to read. Maybe he also just wanted to see a little bit into how Remus viewed their lives. Maybe he was bored, and this was the only form of entertainment in this damned awful house. Maybe it was a mix all of the above.

 

_Fifth Year : I remember in potions class when we were brewing amortentia. We got into a big fight because all I could smell was your cigarettes, which was distracting me from the ACTUAL POTION. Then, you accused me of bringing chocolate into class because it was distracting *you*. We argued almost the whole period before Lily burst out laughing and called us out on it._

 

Remus always had smelled like chocolate, hadn’t he? His scent was chocolate, new books, and exactly what Sirius imagined fall to smell like. This current Remus was different in every way fathomable. He looked different, he acted different, but yet he smelled the same. It was the only thing that remained as a bridge to the past.

 

Sirius smiled sadly.

 

* * *

 

When Remus Lupin returned an hour later, he was greeted with a sight of Sirius on his bed, stacks of notes surrounding him. “I’m home- Sirius… what are you doing?”

 

Sirius looked up, drawing his eyes away from the current note in his hand to give Remus his attention. “Just going through the jar…” He explained, briefly glancing at the note he was holding. It was another rather pleasant one, documenting the first time they had sex. Sirius would definitely have to put that in his favorites pile.

 

“I can see that… but you seemed so hesitant to even read one yesterday?” Remus lowered his briefcase onto the ground and began to unfasten his tie.

 

“Well, you see, that’s before I realized how magnificent they are,” Sirius explained, putting that sex memory away. “I’ve been reading through them, and even though I can’t remember exact scenarios… I can remember the details.”

 

Remus furrowed his brow, kicking off his shoes at the door and finally coming over to the mattress. “Details? What do you mean by details?”

 

“You know, the small things,” Sirius poorly elaborated. Remus was a smart man, he should know what he had meant, “It’s like, I just read about the first time we made love. I don’t really remember that moment, but it did remind me of how you always used to writhe below me when I’d kiss your collarbone.”

 

A tint of pink made itself at home on Remus’s cheeks, “Oh, I see…”

 

“Mhm,” Sirius said, enthusiastically waving to the piles of notes around him. “I also sorted them into a few piles. First, my favorites - the ones that reminded me of my favorite things. Then, the pile I wrote on. I decided that I might as well add in my own notes to help me remember those,” His smile wavered, “And then there’s the pile of ones I can’t really remember at all.”

 

Remus followed Sirius’s eyes to a small pile of crumpled paper. Sirius watched as he reached for them, opening them up slowly to discover most of the moments occured in their early Hogwarts years. Everything before fourth year was a complete blur to Sirius. “How about we don’t focus on what you can’t remember… and instead on what you _can_.”

 

It was Sirius’s turn to arch a brow as Remus leaned in closer. He stiffened, but didn’t try to back away as he felt soft lips on his. It was just a peck, no tongue, no lust, just a small act of affection.

 

Since Sirius had came back, they had tried to rekindle their romance on countless occasions. It just always fizzled because Sirius could never get into the right mood for it at all. He couldn’t remember what it was like to have sex - sheer, unadulterated pleasure - after his time in Azkaban.

 

Curiosity got the best him, however. He leaned in, deepening the kiss. With Remus this close, he could smell this familiar scent. Just like the notes had described, he smelled like chocolate. For the first time in over twelve years, he felt seventeen again, as Remus cautiously slipped his tongue into his mouth. Sirius let his own body move instinctively, capturing his lover in his kiss.

 

It turns out making love to Remus Lupin was like riding a bike. He might not have done it a long time, but he always would remember how to. After a few minutes of heated kissing, Sirius pulled back to capture his breath. One of the notes had reminded him Remus always went putty in his hands when he kissed his collarbone. So, for science, obviously, Sirius leaned in and kissed that very spot. Sure enough, the man wiggled beneath him, a soft noise escaping his lips.

 

Remus always had made such sweet noises, hadn’t he?

 

Sirius continued to kiss Remus’s neck before finding his lips again. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he found that he didn’t really care. It was one of those days that he could taste his past in his lover’s mouth.

 

“Sirius…” A soft, muffled voice, made its way through the kiss. It caught Sirius’s attention and he stopped, to listen to what the other had to say. “It’s been so long since we’ve had such of a hefty make-out session…”

 

“You’re telling me.” Sirius grunted.

 

“I appreciate it, but,” Remus smiled softly beneath him, “Do you mind if we just kiss and cuddle tonight?”

 

He wanted to go farther with Remus, but he was tired. He didn’t have the stamina he used to. It was obvious he wasn’t ready for full-on intercourse yet, but he had made a lot of progress that night. “Of course.” Sirius carefully moved the stacks of paper to the dresser by the bed.

 

“.. Remus?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“How many notes did you write, by the way?” Sirius asked, a wave of curiosity coming over him, as he glanced at the jar. Even though he had went through a lot of memories already, the container still looked more than halfway full.

 

“I wrote three hundred and sixty five letters. It was supposed to be a years worth of my favorite memories with you.” Remus responded from somewhere behind Sirius.

 

Sirius’s heart swelled when he thought about how much time Remus must have spent constructing his craft. “Thank you.”

 

In many ways, Sirius was right. He would never be the man he used to be. The man he used to be could go round after round, but now he struggled to get _it_ even up. Yet, there was something still exciting about just being this close to Remus. It had been years since he had allowed himself to actually enjoy the presence of the man he still loved.

 

Did he remember everything? Not exactly. Did that really matter though? Not exactly. Right now, in this moment, he could feel Remus’s arms slithering around his waist, pulling him into a tight embrace.

 

Remus Lupin and his dumb little jar of notes was like his own personal timeturner. They reminded him that there was more than the Azkaban and Grimmauld Place in this world.

 

Tomorrow he would write an owl to Harry at Hogwarts, and tomorrow he would read more notes. Tomorrow he would try to reconcile with Remus. But for now, he just wanted to sleep in his lover’s arms.

 

He was starting to remember who the real Sirius Black was. There was a long road to recovery ahead of him, but maybe, just maybe, that was okay.


End file.
